The Heir by Grace Burrowes

patience of a saint.
    “You may.” He put his empty glass on the tray and sat back in his chair.
    “Is this how you work with Mr. Tolliver?” she asked. “Dictating correspondence word-for-word?”
    “Sometimes,” the earl replied, frowning. “He’s been with me several years, though, and more often than not, I simply scratch a few notes, and he drafts the final missive for my signature.”
    “Can we try that approach? It sounds like my grandfather’s way of doing business, and so far, your correspondence has been perfectly mundane.”
    “We can try it, but I am reminded of another matter I wanted to raise with you, and I will warn you in advance I won’t have you sniffing your indignation at me for it.”
    “Sniffing my indignation?”
    The earl nodded once, decisively. “Just so. I told you the other night I have parted company with my current chere amie . I inform you of this, Mrs. Seaton, not because I want to offend your sensibilities, but because I suspect the duke will next turn his sights on my own household.”
    “What does His Grace have to do with your… personal associations?”
    “Precisely my question,” the earl agreed, but he went on to explain in terse, blunt language how his father had manipulated his mistress, and how Elise had altered the plan in its significant details. “My father will likely try to find a spy on my own staff to inform him of when and with whom I contract another liaison. You will foil his efforts, should you learn of them.”
    “My lord, if you wanted to elude your father’s scrutiny, then why would you hire half your footmen from his household and give him exclusive access to your valet for weeks on end?”
    The earl looked nonplussed as he considered the logic of her observation.
    “I made those arrangements before I comprehended the lengths to which my father is prepared to go. And I did so without knowing he already had spies in Elise’s household, as well.”
    Anna said nothing and resumed her seat across the desk from the earl. He shuffled the stack, put two or three missives aside, then passed pen and paper to Anna.
    “To Barstow,” he began, “a polite expression of noninterest at this time, perhaps in future, et cetera. To Williams and Williams, a stern reminder that payment is due on the first, per our arrangements, and sword-rattling to the effect that contractual remedies will be invoked.” He passed over the first two and went on in that vein until Anna had her orders for the next dozen or so letters.
    “And while you obligingly tend to spinning that straw into gold”—the earl smiled without warning— “I will fire off the next salvo to His Grace.”
    For the next hour, they worked in companionable silence, with Anna finding it surprisingly easy to address the tasks set before her. She’d spent many, many hours in this role with her grandfather and had enjoyed the sense of partnership and trust such a position evoked.
    “Well, what have we here?” Lord Valentine strode into the library, smiling broadly at its occupants. “Have I interrupted a lofty session of planning menus?”
    “Hardly.” The earl smiled at his brother. “Tolliver’s absence has necessitated I prevail on Mrs. Seaton’s good offices. What has you up so early?”
    “It’s eleven of the clock,” Val replied. “Hardly early when one expects to practice at least four hours at hispianoforte.” He stopped and grimaced. “If, that is, you won’t mind. I can always go back to the Pleasure House if you do.”
    “Valentine.” The earl glanced warningly at Mrs. Seaton.
    “I’ve already told your housekeeper I am possessed of a healthy affection for pianos of easy virtue.” Val turned his smile on Anna. “She was shocked insensible, of course.”
    “I was no such thing, your lordship.”
    “A man can take poetic license,” Val said, putting a pair of Westhaven’s glasses on his nose. “If you will excuse me, I will be off to labor in the vineyard to which I